


Bucatini Alla Disaster

by narrymestyles



Category: One Direction (Band)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 05:25:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narrymestyles/pseuds/narrymestyles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Harry- the last time we tried cooking we broke the microwave.” He turned to the boy at the sink, laying out the facts because no way in hell are they going to be able to pull of a fancy Italian dinner by the time Liam got home. </p><p>“Yeah but, that was complicated.” Harry shrugged.</p><p>“It was cup-a-soup, Harry.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bucatini Alla Disaster

**Author's Note:**

> bit of fluff, really :) /me not studying for my math test and craving italian food and harry styles with flour all over his face.

The pair stared dismally at the pile of ingredients stacked on the table, tomatoes on the verge of rolling out of their Waitrose packaging, cream and juice bottles lilted on the edge of the table, and god-knows-what packets of countless spices and nuts scattered amongst them.

“It’s just Bu- Buc” he glanced back down at the paper, squinting his eyes at his older friends cursive handwriting, “Bucatini alla Carbonara” he managed, the words barely slipping off his tongue in a comprehensible manner. 

“How hard can it be?” Mouth curling into a crooked smile, he shook his curls out of his eyes and walked towards the sink, leaving his blonde friend to stare down at the recipe in horror.

“Harry- the last time we tried cooking we broke the microwave.” He turned to the boy at the sink, laying out the facts because no way in hell are they going to be able to pull of a fancy Italian dinner by the time Liam got home. 

“Yeah but, that was complicated.” Harry shrugged.

“It was cup-a-soup Harry.” 

“It didn’t say on the instructions we weren’t allowed to use a plastic cup Niall!” He retaliated, as if Niall was being completely unrealistic and how was Harry supposed to have known he had to use a mug because a cup was a cup and it wasn’t called mug-a-soup for a reason, so really, it was a manufacturers blunder, not his. But Niall wasn’t buying it.

“Harry.” Ocean eyes glared at his younger companion, trying to make him understand that this wasn’t going to work, this wasn’t going to end well.

“Yeah but Niall we promised Liam we would- we really don’t have much of a choice anymore.” 

“We promised?” He rolled his eyes, he was still at such a loss as to why on earth Harry would agree to a feat like this.

“Well, it wasn’t my fault you were snoring your face off until 11 this morning was it? And, Liam looked so scared I had to help! Poor guy just got his girlfriend back, he didn’t wanna lose her because he forgot to cook!” He threw his hands up in the air, defensive because he really didn’t know why he’d decided this was a go either, if he’s honest.

“I realize, Harry, and that’s really sweet and considerate and I’m sure anyone would have done the same but why did ‘can you please see if you can get dinner for us to come back to tonight’ become ‘yes, Liam of course, in fact Niall and I will homemake dinner for you what’s Danielle’s favourite food?’ WE COULD HAVE JUST ORDERED CHINESE!” Exasperated, the Irish boy stalked over to the island and slumped onto one of the bar stools, swinging his legs to spin the chair until he was facing his younger friend. 

And Harry didn’t really have an answer because Niall was right and that was weird because why was Niall right, Nialls never right but anyways he is right this time so Harry just smiles sheepishly and says “well we can’t let them starve all night can we?”

And to his surprise the Irish boys expression had completely changed and his forehead was no longer creased in annoyance but he was looking at Harry with a mischievous grin, hand reaching forward towards the recipe sheet on the granite surface.

“You’re right, we can’t- and who said Italian cooking wasn’t fun?” And now Harry was scared because when Niall says fun he doesn’t mean cracking a lame joke here and there, he means fun. So no, Harry wasn’t scared-he was excited. 

“After you, monsieur Chef Horan.” Emerald eyes twinkling, he reached over to flick Niall gently across the cheek, following him towards the ingredients table.

“So first we cook the pasta- surely that can’t be too bad?”

“Nah, pasta’s a piece o’ cake. Get some water Haz, we’ve got this under control.” 

Doing as instructed, Harry grabbed a pan he figured would be around the right size and filled it to the near brim with water, placing it on the stove when we was done and turning on the gas which sparked to life before bursting into flame, golden-blue flickers licking the bottom of the pan like a vicious leech. While the water started to boil, Niall foiled around in the pile, looking for the pack of pasta. 

“Do we put this in before it boils or after?” The Irish boy turned, watching Harry slosh around the pan with a wooden spoon and-“why are you mixing the water?”

“Dunno- gotta keep the consistency.” And Niall couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Before bursting into a fit of laugher- thank god they were in a boyband and could afford to buy their food every night because Harry mixes his fucking water.

Hearing the sizzle of the water, Harry looked down to see miniscule bubbles fizzing up to the top. 

“I think you should put the pasta in now.” He beckoned to Niall who brought over the packet of shells, dumping them into the sizzling pan. 

“Well now we just... wait” 

“Sounds good to me!” shrugging off his apron ((which Niall really doesn’t know why he even put on because all Harry did was boil/mix water and how he thought that would make his clothes dirty is a question left to only God)) he walked toward the TV, and slumped on the couch. Niall followed, checking the clock so he could keep tab of the time to go back and check on the pasta in 15 minutes like the packet said he should. 

But everyone knew you can’t put in pasta after the waters boiled and you’re supposed to stay there and mix it so that the calcium doesn’t bubble up until it’s too much for the pan and bursts out of it and you’re supposed to be there to turn down the heat when this happens to avoid a catastrophe. 

Well, everyone except for Harry Styles and Niall Horan, evidently.

They’d only just stopped arguing over which channel they should watch when a sudden, fat, loud sizzle wafted its way toward them and they looked at each other in alarm before sprinting towards it, with just enough time to watch the whole pan erupt its contents; water and pasta scattering around the stove and putting out the fire before trickling its way down the cupboards and onto the white-tiled kitchen floor. 

And there was no need for words because they both knew they’d only had one bag of pasta and this definitely wasn’t the way the day should have started. Dispersing, they moved to opposite sides of the kitchen to rummage around to find anything that might have the slight capability to replace their core ingredient.

“We have tofu” Irish accent rang from his corner to Harry’s and Harry froze for a second to take in his friends stupidity.

“Tofu Niall?”

“Do you have anything better?” He responded, scathingly, turning to look at the curly-haired boy. 

“No but-”

“Tofu it is then.” And Harry shrugged because, at least Niall couldn’t make fun of him mixing water anymore because he’s the one who substituted tofu for pasta. 

“And at least I’m not mixing water Haz.” So Harry was wrong, Niall could still make fun of him for mixing water. 

“We don’t even know how to cook tofu Niall, let alone make it resemble pasta” he whined, slicing up the cream coloured sponge-like blocks of meat replacements. He didn’t even know why they had any for the first place, none of them were vegetarian and none of them even liked tofu. 

“Yeah well we can improvise! Look” he opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of scissors, taking a peice of plastic out of the drawer below and cutting a shell shape out of it. “Cookie, I mean, tofu cutters!” Grinning, he placed it on top of his slice of tofu and pushed down, picking up a rather flat yet somewhat pasta looking creation afterwards.

Shrugging, Harry mimicked his actions and that’s how step one of their chef-day began. 

-x-

“Isn’t it a fact that putting raw eggs in your hair makes it really healthy and shiny?” Harry murmured, cracking eggs into a bowl for beating, while Niall cut up the bacon, mixing it with a bowl of cream and mozarrella. 

“I wouldn’t know Harry, I don’t put raw eggs anywhere in my body.” He replied sarcastically, pulling a packet of ‘Brazilian nuts’ out of the pile and rolling his eyes because since when does Italian food need Brazilian nuts in it. 

There was silence as Harry contemplated this fact, stirring the eggs slowly, trying to mix the white and yellow until they were one. 

“Well you do now!” he yelled, catching his Irish friend completely by surprise before cracking an egg right above his head. And it took Niall a few seconds to register what had just happened, but it was a few seconds earlier than Harry had planned that Niall snapped out of it and he soon found himself smothered in a creamy white mixture of ham and cheese.

But he couldn’t help laughing, not when Niall was stood opposite him, egg white dripping down his golden hair and nose, yellow ooze trailing down his neck, the top of his head shiny and slimy.

“At least the fact was true- your hairs shinier than it’s ever been.” And they were both on the floor, laughing respectively at each other, because it’s not like Harry looked any less ridiculous; pieces of grated cheddar falling through his curls, his face and neck covered in thick double cream, pink pieces of bacon peeking out of his hair. 

And in their laughter they were oblivious to the fact that they no longer had any more cream and nor did they have anymore cooked bacon or cheese for that matter and when they did realize, it was a good thing they were in a boyband because that made them used to saying things/singing in unison:

“Shit.”

-x-

“What now?!” Looking frantically at the clock, curls splaying across his sweat-beaded forehead, “they’ll be back in just over an hour!!”

Niall was no calmer than the younger boy, rummaging through every cupboard that contained anything edible, pulling at packets of Wotsits and bars of Special K, sliding across the tiles on his knees from door to door. 

“We have Frankfursts pickled sausages?” Harry suggested, holding a glass jar of oil and pink sausages, swallowing a chuckle as he said it.

“...And we have Krafts Cheddar? The stuffs disgusting but it is cheese... The only problem is we have nothing to mix it up with, not even any milk” Harry nodded in response, lost in contemplation. 

“Well.. Remember when Liam bought that Extra-Light Custard and it literally tasted like nothing we could-”

“Yes! Good idea Harry lets goooooooo” and Harry shrugged because he really didn’t think custard with pickled sausages and Kraft Cheddar was gonna go down well but it was something. Still dripping in their previous and real carbonara sauce, he pulled the custard out of the larder and began pouring as Niall cut up the sausages.

When they had something that looked a faint amount like a white pasta sauce ((if you ignored the lumps in the custard here and there that Harry had tried to take out- he really did, but he couldn’t get every one but at least the consistency of the water for the pasta had been perfect so he guesses that makes up for the lumpy custard)) they poured it on their make-do pasta and mixed it all together before grabbing two nice white china plates and pouring the meal onto them in equal servings and topping it with a splash of parsley because thats what most restaurants do.

When they were done and they had cleaned up the kitchen to the best of their ability, meaning the dishes were stashed in the dishwasher in no particular order and the mop used to clean not only the floors but the worktops as well they ran towards their bedrooms to try and get the egg and cream and cheese and ham out of their hair before Liam and Danielle arrived. 

 

-x-

In response to the chiming doorbell, Harry proudly opened the door, beckoning Liam to follow him towards the kitchen to a table set up with candles and a red tablecloth, lights dimmed and romantic as hell.

Grabbing a hold of Danielle’s hand, Liam led her into the kitchen, crinkling his nose just a little bit because Harry must have really gone all out- he still reeked of mozzarella. 

“Holy shit Harry, you guys actually did it.”

“Oh yeah” he turned to face the couple, dimples lighting up in reaction to his cheeky smile.

Niall stood at the table, napkins folded neatly across cream place mats, ready to serve, eyes glinting as he looked at Harry. “Take a seat, lovebirds.” 

And Liam looked at Danielle, spellbound because wow they actually did do it and not just do it but make it look really nice too and he really hadn’t expected it because this is Niall and Harry he’s talking about and he was all ready with Domino’s number but just wow.

The younger two wandered over to the kitchen to pick up the meal, pre-served into plates and took them out, one with each boy. Harry carefully placed the white china onto Liam’s placemat, grinning at Niall who did the same for Danielle.

And Liam looked down because that really doesn’t smell like pasta and he carefully spooned some onto his fork and into his mouth before it all came flying out while he spluttered

“What the hell is this?” 

And the pair burst into giggles because they’d been waiting for Liam’s reaction all day and they just couldn’t get over his face because it had been so utterly and perfectly what they had imagined if not better and they really had spent too much of their day on the floor. 

And Danielle looked down, disgusted at the- she didn’t even wanna know what was in it, and looking at the two sprawled across the tiles, clutching their stomachs in fits of laughter and giggles Liam couldn’t help the smile that came creeping onto his face.

It was a good thing he’d kept the number handy because he guessed they would be calling Domino’s after all.


End file.
